


Romano, was it?

by orphan_account



Category: Subway Surfers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were only so many pretend soccer matches Roberto could claim to have attended before his father realized he was hanging out with the kid who was wanted all over Rome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romano, was it?

The first time Roberto met Jake, Roberto was convinced that Jake lacked a healthy sense of self-preservation. Roberto had asked the boy what possessed him to add graffiti to a wall that was once so clean, Jake had simply grinned mischievously at him in answer. At the end of the day, Roberto decided Jake wasn't worth his time and promptly forgot about him.

* * *

The second time Roberto met Jake, Jake had his foot wedged between the train tracks. The silly bunny-costume wearing cop and his dog were closing in on Jake. Roberto ran toward Jake without a second thought.

Soon after, Roberto was running from the law for the first time in his life. Jake kept up with him, still smiling as he and Roberto ducked under a barricade and lost the cop and his dog three minutes later.

"Hey, thanks man," Jake told him, clapping Roberto on the shoulder while Roberto was bent down, hands on his knees, to catch his breath.

Roberto stared at him. "Jake," He began, then decided that Jake was probably not going to listen to him talk about his obvious tendency to enjoy vandalism. "Seriously, what do you-" Roberto turned in time to watch Jake climb over the side of the fence. "Jake, listen, you need to stop doing- stop doing that, _yes_ , off the fence and back on the ground."

Jake did stop, a leg thrown over the fence, hands gripping the cool metal. "Y'know, I've been meaning to ask... How do you know my name?"

 _Ah, yes._ Roberto forgot about that. Jake didn't know him and under normal circumstances Roberto wasn't supposed to know Jake either. Under normal circumstances, Roberto wouldn't even be around someone like Jake. But Roberto did know Jake. He knew Jake because the cops knew him. Roberto's father was a cop too, so by default Roberto was obligated to know the boy his father actively told him to avoid.

"You are pretty popular," Roberto answered, avoiding the question entirely. Jake didn't seem to mind even if he had noticed.

"Am I?" Jake asked, sounding as if he had expected that answer. Roberto shrugged, "One way or the other," he told Jake. He watched Jake climb the rest of the way off the fence to get to the other side.

Jake looked back at him, smiled, and took off.

Somehow Roberto knew that Jake would be back. Worse yet was the knowledge that Roberto knew he'd be waiting to pull Jake's butt out of the fire.

* * *

The third time Roberto met Jake, Jake was busily emptying a can of spray paint on what was once a fairly clean wall. Shame really, Roberto was tather fond of that wall. "You," Roberto walked around the bag of spray paint cans, "...are **crazy**."

Jake looked at him from over his shoulder, "Hey, there. Grab that can for me, no, not that one. The one to your right- there! That one, thanks."

Roberto brushed his hands on the back of his shorts. "You know, someday, you will get caught," said Roberto, shaking his head disapprovingly. Something in the way he spoke must have been off because Jake started laughing, the line of paint he had been spraying unto the wall tilting to the left just so.

"Romano, you are really silly, y'know? Maybe you should try this-" Jake was facing him now, empty spray paint can forgotten on the ground, and was gesturing with one paint-streaked hand to the painted wall behind him, "-you never know, you might like it." Roberto raised an eyebrow at Jake. If only Jake knew who Roberto was. _If only_. But he couldn't deny that he did want to take a spray paint can from the bag and maybe add a line of paint to one side.

Roberto crossed his arms over his chest, "Romano?" He sounded more amused than offended.

Jake lifted his shoulders and let them drop slowly, "Unless you have an actual name, 'Romano' is who you'll be."

Roberto briefly considered telling him his own name. Jake watched him, thoughtfully. "Start running, Jake," Roberto said instead, watching as Jake hurriedly packed his spray paint cans into his bag. Roberto would later learn that Jake having time to pack his things before having to run was rarer than a blue moon.

"Let's go, Romano!" Jake urged, swinging his bag over his shoulder, an action Roberto noted Jake was not used to, "Go, go, _go_!"

After that, Roberto and Jake met up almost constantly at the subways. Jake didn't mind, Roberto kept a lookout for the cop and that meant Jake had enough time to pack up. From their time together, Roberto found out that Jake was on a world tour with several other kids. When Roberto jokingly asked if the other kids were a big fan of graffiti like Jake was, Jake gave him a lopsided smile as if he expected Roberto to keep the secret that Roberto didn't know he knew.

Jake then found out that his buddy Brody was actually Roberto's brother, he was surprised. "So, your father's a cop?" Jake asked, turning to look at Roberto expectantly, "You aren't spying on me for him, are you?" Jake was trying very hard to sound like he was just fooling around, but Roberto knew that Jake was worried.

Roberto crossed his arms and shook his head, "I won't turn you in. I could-" Roberto smirked at Jake's horrified expression, "But I won't," Roberto added quickly in case Jake decided to make a run for it. There was a long awkward pause that had Roberto watching the way Jake steadily sprayed the paint unto the wall like a professional. _Professional small-time criminal,_ Roberto told himself. He really should not be here. What would his father think? _What_ , indeed.

"So... you sure you don't want to try this?" Jake asked, breaking the silence and Roberto's quickly worsening train-of-thought. Jake pointed a thumb over his shoulder and to the wall behind of him then to the spray paint cans littered on the ground. Roberto crossed his arms, "Seriously? You've been asking every day now, and the answer is still _no_."

Jake slowly lifted his shoulders upwards, tilting his head to the side and waved his hands around minutely, "You'll come around." There must have been some unheard of reward that was offered to Jake, Roberto thought, because what other reason did Jake have to constantly insist that Roberto try his hand at spray painting a wall? Roberto knew he couldn't just do _that_ ; his father would do worse than ground him if he found out. After all, a cop's kid was expected to be morally upright... right? But Roberto knew he would be lying if he said he had never thought about it. Drawing something- _anything_ \- on the wall, just to do something his father _did not_ ask of him for once. Just to show him that he wasn't the perfect little kid he was cut out to be. In case his father didn't get that the first time Roberto kicked a soccer ball and scored a goal- for the other team.

* * *

Roberto didn't see Jake for weeks after that. Which was for the best Roberto decided because his father was starting to ask questions. And there were only so many pretend soccer matches Roberto could claim to have attended before his father realized he was hanging out with the kid who was wanted all over Rome.

* * *

"That kid- Jake was it? We caught him," Roberto's father told him one day by way of conversation. Roberto tried his best to keep his face neutral as he looked up from his bowl of cereal. "Oh...?" Roberto looked from his father to the papers the man held in his hands.

Roberto's father nodded, "Yeah, finally cornered him, took long enough too."

Roberto couldn't say he had not expected that. In fact, he had expected it the first time he met Jake, but now that Jake was presumably behind bars, it left Roberto feeling like he failed to do _something_. "Huh... has his bail been posted yet?" Roberto asked, stirring his spoon in his bowl and pushing the cereal around. Roberto's father watched him from his seat across him on the table, an almost concerned expression on his face.

* * *

"You do realize I didn't come here to set you free, _right_?" Roberto asked, standing an arm's length away from the bars, from Jake. Jake did that weird thing with his shoulders and his face again. That gesture really didn't make sense to Roberto. "You here to tell me how _awful_ I am, Romano?" asked Jake. Jake managed to sound way too happy for a kid behind bars, Roberto decided. Actually, Roberto was pretty sure Jake wasn't at all concerned that he was behind bars.

"Yes, definitely, you're definitely more _awful_ than what they give you credit for," said Roberto, earning himself a snicker from Jake who shifted his weight to one foot, then the other, until Roberto was convinced Jake was dancing to some beat only he could hear. They were quiet for a moment, standing around awkwardly, while turning their heads to the ground as a cop whistled, walking right behind Roberto. Once the cop was out of ear shot, Jake grinned at Roberto, eyes focused on him so intently that Roberto swallowed, suddenly nervous.

Jake leaned on the bars, whispering, "I saw that."

Roberto shook his head, hands in his pockets now. "You saw _nothing_ ," he told Jake, raising both his hands up in mock surrender. But he had in fact done something. The proof dangled from where it was looped around the thumb of his left hand; the key to Jake's cell...amongst a dozen other keys. If Jake was happy earlier, he was ecstatic now, rocking on his heels and smiling much wider. Roberto vaguely realized that Jake was being creepy, and that this was very much like freeing an insane person _and_ handing him a gun- or in this case, a bag of spray paint cans.

Then they were both running, sneaking past several guards until they were out in the open. Roberto and Jake sat down to catch their breath a good distance away from the little prison. "Remind me again _why_ I just helped you escape in the middle of the night?" Roberto asked, idly running his hand on the grass beneath him.

"No idea, Romano, no idea," Jake answered. "Actually, tell me again why you're so good at stealing things," Jake told Roberto, rolling unto his stomach and watching the other boy from the corner of his eye.

"I've got to have _some_ skills," Roberto answered, sniffing petulantly, "Sparse as they are."

"Really?"

"Really."

They were quiet again after that. A silence broken only once Jake was on his feet again, slinging the bag of spray paint cans over his shoulder. "So... tomorrow is my last day of spray painting Rome a rainbow. Then I'll be off to Sydney. Thought you'd like to grab this chance to help create said rainbow since you live here and everything."

Roberto looked up at Jake, "You say that like you're doing me a favor."

Jake crossed his arms, pretending to be offended, "Aren't I?"

"No, no you aren't," Roberto admitted, shaking his head. Jake frowned at him for the first time since he met him. "But tell you what, you stop calling me Romano, and maybe I'll hang around long enough to make sure you paint something _decent_ this time around."

Jake looked at him as if he had just challenged him. "So... what would it be-" Jake paused, holding a can of bright red spray paint in his hand and extending it tentatively to Roberto. "You in, Ro- _bert_ -o?"

This went against everything his father ever thought him. Had his mother still been alive, she'd throw a fit. But right now, he didn't want to pretend he was great at soccer. He didn't want to pretend to be his father's perfect little kid that he could show off to his co-workers just so he could feel proud of himself. "Just don't land us behind bars, Jake, throw in a ticket to Sydney, and I'm go," said Roberto, clasping the spray paint can in his hands.

"Hey, I don't get caught," Jake defended, huffing. "For very long, anyway," he added, grinning almost sheepishly.

"Really?"

Jake smirked, extending a hand to help Roberto unto his feet, "I got my friends and myself this far, haven't I?"

Roberto rolled his eyes, "Such confidence. You must be a professional at this, Jake."

"I _am_ a professional. Now let me show you what a _real_ Subway Surfer can do."

"Besides getting caught, you mean?"

Jake punched Romano gently on the shoulder, "You're such a smart ass."

Roberto grinned, "I've got to have _some_ skills."


End file.
